


yes or no? yours or mine? god or no god?

by deimosun



Series: what more do you want, insatiable? [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, M/M, Prophet AU, i guess? um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deimosun/pseuds/deimosun
Summary: just because something comes from the heavens doesn't mean it's the answer you are looking for.or, prophet au where iker is a prophet and david is not exactly what he was looking for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [title from here.](http://zoroshi.tumblr.com/post/154723587259/its-not-what-it-looks-like)

he had always been a bit lost in life no purpose nowhere to go just floating and when all this crazy shit started it was refreshing for a while but then –

just because something comes from the heavens doesn't mean it's the answer you are looking for.

 

-

 

the first time he meets david, he’s bleeding through his shirt while sitting on the floor at a forgotten church. his ribs hurt and his hand might be broken. he’s trying to force his heart rate down and taking deep breaths when a guy comes out of nowhere.

(he thought he had thrown them off his track, shit crap motherfucker – of all places to die, he doesn't want it to be in a shitty church in the middle of nowhere, _oh god no please have mercy on me_ )

the guy comes closer, and kneels down in front of him, takes iker’s chin in his hand and forces iker to look into his eyes. they are inky black all over, no white in sight. iker is still, not moving, not daring to breath.

“relax,” the guy says, and grins at him “i’m not going to hurt you.”

iker looks at him doubtfully, holding his injured hand closer to his own body, doesn’t move one bit. the guy lets out a sigh, and puts his hand on the side of iker’s neck, presses slightly over a bruise there. iker feels warmth flowing through his body, and it gets so hot he feels like his insides are being cooked but then –

It stops. the guy takes his hand away, stands up and starts walking away.

“wait! what is your name?” iker yells, still panting, sweat already forming on his forehead and on his upper lip, from the sudden change of body temperature.

the guy stops on his tracks, looks back over his shoulder. he smirks, ferine and savage.

“i’m david, sweetheart,” he answers, and then he’s gone.

-

david is.

he is something else. He’s always around, and he never gets caught. Iker doesn’t know what is up with him. he’s different than other demons, somehow. he doesn’t stink as much of sulfur and his eyes aren't always fully black. iker thinks it’s weird, but doesn’t comment on it. he doesn’t comment anything about david to the angels, either. he keeps his mouth shut and fights his own battles.

david sticks around.

-

one might say their meeting was a coincidence.

(it wasn't. prophesies have a way of making themselves real, taking whatever is needed)

he stops in a bar, before going back to his apartment in town. there’s a boy working there, looking not a day older than eighteen. he smiles when Iker sits on the stool, and gives iker his number scrawled on a napkin when iker leaves.

that’s how it starts.

it goes on for months of unperturbed silence and cesc in his arms. sweet, precious cesc, who wouldn't hurt a fly and loved animals. who patched him up when he used to come home broken battered bruised and never really asked. who wanted to study veterinary medicine at college, who wanted to cook for Iker and who liked cuddles more than everything else. who liked to fuck on the couch and on the bed and on the kitchen table. who stuck to iker like glue during storm nights, and wouldn't let go for all the money in the world.

-

he was so naïve to think, to even consider for a moment they would let him have this; that they would let him have this boy, would give him the luxury. that they would allow it. he thought it was alright, it was all over; he did what they asked (he burned bodies and burned his own body during it and burned everything around. he broke in the private crossroad to bury the necklace exactly where they asked to, broke the sigils they asked him to, did what they asked because god is good and good needs to win against evil, good has to win). they said to him after the fight, _it’s done. it’s all done._

it wasn't. they kept coming back for more and you just wanted to live to love to learn you didn't want to die that is why you sided with them, they said that was the only way you could live, you could come out alive. they kept the competition away, and held iker close. iker did the dirty work they couldn't, did the things angels were not allowed to do.

they said, this is your destiny, _iker. this is what you are meant to do._

he believed them.

looking back, he wishes he hadn’t.

-

he still remembers the sounds cesc made while getting fucked, sweet little noises, uhs and ahs.

he wishes he could forget.

(he doesn’t)

-

cesc’s body in his arms, lifeless and bloody. his eyes are closed and his hands are still gripping iker’s jacket. cesc is not moving, but iker keeps mumbling “ _i love you i love you oh my god i love you please don’t go,_ ” against his lips, his eyes letting tears out like a waterfall.

the archangel stands tall over him, his hand still bloody and face neutral.

“a prophet of the kord must have no distractions.” he said, looking straight into iker’s eyes, before turning around and leaving.

cesc is still motionless in his hands. iker cradles him closer, keeps asking for miracles and for god’s help. ge of all people should know that’s bullshit, and he knows, he does, but the boy he loves is in his arms with a hole through his chest and he can’t help himself.

he just wants cesc back.

(cesc doesn’t come back)

-

the good side isn't always the right one. they don’t always use the correct methods and don’t stick to a rule book. you except them to, you do. they don’t. they are ruthless in what they want and how they want it, and will go to any lengths to acquire whatever it is.

(iker learns it. iker learns it fast. heavenly creatures are not to be trusted. they are as filthy as the demons but dirtier; because they hide behind “ _for the greater good_ ” facades and they try to spin it on you. they try to put the blame on you. femons are clear and bullet quick on what they want.

angels, on the other hand, will lie and rip your heart out. it’s not always your own)

-

he meets up with david a few days later, heart still aching and eyes still hollow. he digs a hole in a crossroad and puts the box inside (bones a picture a hex bag some of his own blood) and buries it. waits less than five seconds before he hears a whoosh, and david is there. it’s not sympathy in his eyes, but it comes close.

iker doesn’t know what to say. they stare at each other, until david opens his mouth and tells him “you side with us now, help us, and you’ll get your revenge,”. iker nods, and buries his nails on the palm of his hand. lets out a deep breath, and thinks –

(good doesn’t always win and evil sometimes is not that evil; good sometimes is sick and bloody and it’s an archangel holding cesc’s heart on his hand and it’s blood all over Iker’s clothing.it’s dirty and unreal and it needs to be gone)

he agrees with everything; he doesn’t care about anyone else. he’s going to burn this fucking world to the ground, with every fucking angel in it. he’s going to make god suffer. he’s a fucking prophet and he will do as he damn well pleases.

 

-

iker misses him, which is the fucking worst. he misses cesc on his bed and he misses cesc’s soft body and he misses cesc. he misses cesc like a phantom limb; something that was there before but isn't no longer. he can feel its presence still, just around the corner, lurking, waiting to make its absence apparent.

-

he is writing down locations and instructions, marking the map that is on the table with a big red X where he has to go, where he has to fix things up before the final day arrives.

“it was a prophecy,” david says from where he’s perched on the chair at the corner of the random motel room, and iker stops scrawling all over the paper. his hand stills. he doesn’t move an inch.

“they never told you because – fuck,” david lets out a hollow laugh, “you know why they didn't. i didn't fully know it myself until days after it happened. i swear that if i did i would've tried to stop it. i swear, iker.”

iker feels his eyes watering up, and forces down a sob. the fact that if only he knew, only if he knew it before, he could've stopped it, saved cesc –

it’s. it’s a lot.

he lets the pen fall to the floor, and straightens his back.

“we will end this.”

david nods, and then does a double spin on the chair.

-

(david is –

david is the opposite of cesc. bigger hands, lighter hair and darker skin. he is tattoos cesc never could get and he is filthy smirks instead of sweet smiles. iker lets david fuck him like he’s trying to staunch a bleeding, like he’s trying to fill a gap. it’s not working. he still remembers cesc’s fingers around his wrist, holding him close during a nightmare)

-

he doesn’t talk to the other demons, because david takes care of it. but he knows they are all getting ready for a war, too. he and david are always moving, never in one place for too long; angels can sniff you if you mess up for even the tiniest bit and they will come down faster than you can blink. the rooms they stay in are always full to the brim with protective spells and hex bags and symbols on the walls made with red spray paint. tt keeps the angels away, but it fucks david up a bit. they deal.

(he knows the angels are making a mess trying to find him, to get him back. he doesn't care. He will burn them. he will burn them all)

-

they work together on it and make plans and fix everything up. their time is limited, and they have to work fast. iker goes to places and ruins things, tries to hold the angels back for as long as he can. david said his demons need just a few more days to finish things, to seal alliances and to get their armament ready to go.

on the last few days, david stops him right before he goes out of the room, right before they keepmoving.

“you know what’s going to happen when you walk into that place full of them, don’t you.”

it’s not a question, because he knows iker knows. iker is fully aware. he doesn't answer and instead, grabs david’s jaw with his free hand and kisses him on the corner of his mouth. Iker pulls the bag a bit higher over his shoulder, before walking out.

he knows what will happen.

he is fully aware.

 

-

david is laying on the bed, sweaty and still naked, his breath going back to normal. iker is in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. he feels david’s come trickling down his thigh, and scratches slightly at the side of his own nose. the motel room is old and cheap, the mirror is broken. he’s glad for it. he doesn't need to look at himself in the mirror to see bloodshot eyes and the constellation of bruises he knows are on his neck.

he feels dirtier and filthier than ever, lately. it's like there’s a layer of grime over his skin that won’t be washed away, doesn't matter how hard he scrubs. it’s always there, like a reminder. sometimes he still sees cesc’s blood is all over his hands, all over his clothes.

he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

tomorrow it all ends.

 

-

their last moment goes something like this:

iker has to go now, he needs to. otherwise he will be late.

david is not looking at him; instead he’s looking at the demoniac blade on his own hands. Iker knows there’s a legion of demons and monsters outside, waiting for their leader.

david doesn't move an inch.

iker gets close to him, and holds his head carefully with both hands, forces david to look at him before kissing him one last time.

“i love you.” david says, and puts one hand on iker’s neck, caresses the skin a bit. iker closes his eyes.

“i know.”

-

when he leaves, he closes the door as hard as he can to make his message clear. the crowd in front of him parts like a sea of people, and he walks through the tunnel, head held high and holding a blade in his hand, a cigarette on the other.

he runs till he’s in front of the church. it’s two am and it’s pitch dark, he can hear crickets chirping. he yells “ _come fucking get it, you cowards!_ ” in a forgotten language and waits.

ge hears thundering and lighting over his head; the sky is dark gray, the clouds are moving and the wind is sizzling. he takes one last puff of his cigarette and throws it into the ground, stubbing it into the dirt with his foot. walks inside the church, and doesn’t look back.


End file.
